I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 571 Godric Valley

Dumbledore gazed at Owen, his insightful eyes glistening with tears. He slowly shook his head, his voice gentle yet firm: "No, I hope your fate is far more than this."

"But please forgive me, I am not omniscient, and what will happen after all this is beyond my imagination."

"I know. But that's not what I care about." Irving's voice held a hint of indignation. "That feeling of being kept in the dark, being pushed around like a clown on a path they've already laid out, suffocates me. I don't talk about it easily, but my heart is filled with anger."

"Someone pulled me in and filled my head with a bunch of messy memories, with the ultimate goal of making me die correctly."

"He treated people as tools from beginning to end. His attitude made you want to cut off his head."

"Oh—Merlin!" Dumbledore said weakly, seemingly bracing himself against Owen's gaze. "You can't expect a wizard who has been plotting for over sixteen hundred years to still have compassion. That might be a luxury for him. Besides—he has also suffered many separations of life and death, with family and friends."

"I understand that feeling very well."

"You should know my sister's secret, know what those Muggles did, know what she became. You know my poor father paid the price for avenging her, dying a horrible death in Azkaban. You know my mother gave her life to take care of Ariana."

"I resented all of this when I was young, Owen," Dumbledore said frankly and calmly. His gaze swept over Owen's head and looked into the distance.

"And Merlin, he witnessed the fall of a dynasty. The collapse of the Knights of the Disc. His pain was a thousand times greater than mine."

"I can understand his choice."

"I just feel a bit resentful," Irving said, also gazing into the distance. "His self-righteous arrangements are disgusting."

"Hoo—" He took a deep breath, and the restlessness in his heart subsided instantly.

There are two things: he is willing to do something and he is forced to do something.

Merlin should not deprive people of their right to choose.

That is a symbol of dignity.

In the distance, the heroic spirits are still battling the malice lurking in the darkness.

The two sides pulled at each other, and for a while, a stalemate ensued.

"What's the deal with this divinely inspired tower?" Owen asked.

He actually knew the secret himself.

The remnants of those ancient heroes and patriots are still in his mind.

But those memories were too messy and disordered, and the place was too dangerous, so he naturally couldn't calm down and look through them.

But Owen knew that Dumbledore must have seen those memories.

And he had plenty of time to think. He came three times.

"This is a ruined divinely inspired tower," the old headmaster said.

"destruction?"

“Yes—” Dumbledore explained, “Its original location should have been Azkaban. But thousands of years ago, the Tower of Godhood could no longer contain the Outer God within it. Afterwards, that power leaked out, and the successors at the time spent a great deal of effort banishing that power to another world. Then the Connecting Station was established.”

"Another world?" Owen looked up and around.

Could it be that I am in another world right now?

"It's not really a world. It's not that big." Dumbledore pointed to the edge of the island. "That's the edge of the world, and its size is this island you see here."

"The darkness around us is caused by that force constantly encroaching, trying to return to our world."

"Compared to the Divine Tower, this world has almost no defenses. That's why the heir built the Connecting Station, because he needed someone to hold back the spread of darkness every now and then."

"This is another world now. How can the power of the Outer Gods continue to grow? Shouldn't it be gradually dissipating?" Owen asked, frowning. What was this sudden increase in magic power? A perpetual motion machine?

"No." Dumbledore looked at him. "Do you remember I just said that the original location of this divinely inspired tower was now Azkaban?"

Dementors are monsters created by the Outer Gods; the souls they extract are given back to the Outer Gods, thus increasing their magical power.

"Has no one tried to eliminate the Dementors all these years?"

"Of course there are," Dumbledore affirmed. "But it's difficult. First of all, not everyone possesses great strength. An ordinary wizard's Patronus Charm is naturally sufficient to deal with one or two Dementors, but once you come to Azkaban, surrounded by thousands upon thousands of Dementors, even I cannot fight them and can only barely protect myself."

Before the Ministry of Magic reached an agreement with Azkaban, the Wizarding Council had repeatedly tried to organize a force to completely eradicate the Dementors. However, each attempt failed, and many people died needlessly. Eventually, no one was willing to do this thankless and arduous task anymore.

"Moreover, deep beneath Azkaban, in the dark depths where Dementors are created, there must be methods left behind by the Outer Gods. Even the Heirs would have difficulty dealing with them, let alone ordinary people who would have no chance of defeating them."

Over time, the later successors also lost track of the truth about the Dementors.

"Wait—you just said there are things left behind by the Outer Gods in Azkaban." Owen suddenly remembered that Voldemort chose Azkaban as the site of his resurrection during the Goblet of Fire.

At the time, he simply thought that the other party was hiding in plain sight, and no one would suspect that he was hiding in Azkaban. Just as the warden would never have imagined that an escaped prisoner would disguise himself as a guard and hide in another prison.

This is a habitual way of thinking.

Owen now realized that Voldemort's choice of Azkaban was not simply a matter of being blind to what was happening under his nose; he was also after the power of the Outer Gods.

"I'm afraid that part of that power has already been taken by Tom," Dumbledore said calmly.

"It seems so," Irving nodded slowly, almost certain.

"What should I do now?" he then asked.

"wait."

"wait?"

"Yes. In a moment, you will defeat the surrounding darkness. This will not be difficult for you, as the darkness will be largely consumed by these heroic spirits."

"This is the last bit of power left in this world by the Outer Gods. After that, it will be time for the final battle against Voldemort."

"The final battle," Irving murmured.

His gaze was fixed on the distance.

He unconsciously gripped the wand in his hand even tighter.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Harry wanted to head to Godric's Hollow immediately, but Hermione had a different plan.

She believed Voldemort would anticipate that Harry would visit the place where his parents died, so she suggested that Harry observe the area outside Godric's Hollow for a few days before going there.

So Harry and Ginny didn't go into the valley immediately, but instead prepared outside for a whole week—until Halloween was completely over.

They prepared some compound decoctions and then took some hair from the Muggle residents along the valley road to disguise their identities before entering the valley.

Harry has been transformed into a bald, middle-aged Muggle.

Ginny became his thin, small wife, who looked a bit like a mouse.

They were dressed very conservatively, with their wands hidden in their sleeves, fully prepared.

Then, Apparition entered the valley.

The cold air stung my cheeks like needles as we passed more houses along the way, any one of which could have been where James and Lily once lived.

Harry stared at the snow-covered front door, roof, and porch, wondering if he could remember anything, though deep down he knew it was impossible. He was only a year old when he left this place forever. He didn't even know if he would ever see the house again, or what would happen after someone under the Fidelity Charm died.

Turning left into the alley, a small square—the center of the village—came into view.

In the center of the square stands a war memorial-like building, half-hidden behind fir trees swaying in the wind, surrounded by colorful lights. There are several shops, a post office, a bar, and a small chapel, its stained glass windows gleaming like jewels across the square.

The snow here is all compacted.

The ground, worn smooth and slippery from being trampled all day, was covered in mud. Villagers crisscrossed in front of them, briefly illuminated by the streetlights. Fragments of laughter and pop music drifted out as bar doors opened and closed.

"Harry, look!" Ginny pointed to the monument.

It changed as they passed by.

It was no longer an obelisk engraved with names, but had become a statue of three people: a disheveled man wearing glasses, a long-haired, beautiful and kind woman, and a baby boy sitting in his mother's arms. Snowflakes fell on their heads like soft white caps.

Harry walked closer and gazed at his parents' faces. He had never imagined there would be a sculpture... How strange it was to see himself carved in stone, a happy baby, without the scar on his head...

"Let's go," Harry said after they had finished admiring the view.

The two continued walking toward the church, and after they left, the statue became a war memorial.

The church doors were tightly shut, and a path led to the cemetery behind them. Many tombstones could be vaguely seen there.

There was a narrow door at the entrance to the church. Ginny pushed it open as gently as she could, and the two of them slipped inside. The path leading to the church entrance was slippery, with deep, untrodden snow on either side. They crossed the snow, carefully skirting the shadows beneath the bright windows as they made their way to the back of the building, leaving deep furrows behind them.

Behind the church, rows of snow-covered tombstones stood on pale blue-silver ground, interspersed with dazzling red, gold, and green speckles of light—the reflections of stained glass windows on the snow. Harry gripped his wand tightly in his pocket and walked toward the nearest tombstone.

"Where are they?" Ginny asked in a low voice.

To keep it hidden, they dared not openly cast spells.

The surroundings were hazy and visibility was very low. There were over a thousand tombstones here, making it quite difficult to find them.

"Let's split up and look for it," Harry suggested.

The two then went to the depths of the cemetery, bending down to examine the inscriptions on the ancient tombstones, and occasionally glancing around in the darkness to make sure no one else was there.

The tombstones bear the surnames of many ancient wizarding families. Many of these are surnames of famous wizards who have appeared in magical history. In addition, many are ordinary Muggles. This indicates that the town is a co-existing community of wizards and Muggles.

Ginny read through them one by one until she saw a familiar name.

"Harry, look!" She called Harry over.

Pointing to a dark, moss-covered stone tablet, inscribed with the name Kendra Dumbledore, and below it, his daughter Ariana's birth and death dates. There was also a quote: "Where treasures are, there the heart is."

"These are Dumbledore's mother and sister." Harry's heart skipped a beat. He remembered the name well because not long ago, the final volume of Rita Skeeter's legendary wizard biography had finally been released.

It contains many secrets.

He also bought a copy, mainly to see how Rita Skeeter would write about herself. She had been writing about Dumbledore's life in the latest volume up until last year.

The book dedicates a separate chapter to him, Hermione, and the other young wizards at Hogwarts.

None of those were kind words.

In the book, Rita Skeeter portrays Dumbledore as an ambitious schemer who trains others to seize greater interests.

In short, he only skimmed through one chapter before tossing the book into some unknown corner.

"There's another guy next to him named Abbott; maybe he's Hannah's long-lost relative!"

"Perhaps." Harry shook his head, looking away from Dumbledore's mother and sister's gravestones.

"I didn't hear Hannah mention that their family ever lived in Godric's Valley," Ginny murmured, then walked to the next row of tombstones.

Then he hadn't walked more than a few steps.

Just two rows away from Kendra and Ariana, a white marble tombstone appeared before them. Harry stared intently at the inscription, which seemed to gleam in the darkness. He didn't need to kneel or even get very close to read it.

詹姆·波特，生于1960年3月27日，卒于1981年10月31日。

莉莉·波特，生于1960年1月30日，卒于1981年10月31日。

The inscription below reads: The last enemy to be destroyed is death.

Harry read the words slowly, as if he had only one chance to understand their meaning. He read the last line aloud, "The last enemy to be destroyed is death... What does that mean?"

He didn't finish his sentence because a terrible thought flashed through his mind. In that instant, he thought of Voldemort.

That seems to be his idea!

Conquering death, just as he named his organization "Death Eaters".

"Isn't that what the Death Eaters think?" Harry said.

“Harry,” Ginny explained, “it means life transcends death, that though dead, one lives on. Many powerful wizards choose this phrase as their epitaph. Just like Dumbledore often said, death is the next great adventure.”

"Really?" Harry composed himself.

My gaze fell on the ground behind the tombstone.

Death is a great adventure

Death is a great adventure

He murmured those words to himself, thinking of his parents' decaying remains lying beneath the mud and stones, cold and lifeless. Suddenly, a wave of sorrow washed over him.

(End of this chapter)